


you are my sunshine, you are my starlight at night.

by Anonymous



Series: if i never knew you [1]
Category: Disney - All Media Types, Pocahontas (Disney 1995)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childbirth, Discussion of Abortion, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Magic, Mpreg, Spirits, Unplanned Pregnancy, and he and john smith did the smart thing and defected to the tribe, basically thomas gets pregnant by the power of love, honestly i'll just tell you now, it doesn't happen though!!, thomas never shoots kocoum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Among Englishmen, Thomas has never felt like one of them. He's slighter than them, prettier than a man should be, and looks at men in a way he would never dare reveal. He never expected that he'd abandon the settlement of the New World and join an Indian tribe either, but meeting Kocoum made him believe that his life could be something different than he had ever imagined. Kocoum, with his strength, his kindness, and undying loyalty, it's no wonder Thomas falls desperately in love with him.It's no surprise that that love between them could lead to something more, something beyond the boundaries of everything Thomas knows.
Relationships: Kocoum/Thomas (Disney: Pocahontas), Pocahontas/John Smith (Disney)
Series: if i never knew you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120508
Comments: 14
Kudos: 75
Collections: Anonymous, Anonymous Fics





	1. the past

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all!! this fic idea popped into my head a while ago while i was searching for fics for this pairing, and i couldn't wait to write it. i know that mpreg isn't an especially popular trope or anything, so this is quite possibly the most self-indulgent thing i've ever read. in case you didn't read the tags, this fic will contain mpreg, plus descriptions of pregnancy and childbirth. if you're uncomfortable with any of that, please click away now. like i said, this is really to just indulge myself with my favorite tropes, i just thought i'd post here as well on the slim chance someone else will enjoy it. 
> 
> if you're still here, happy reading!

Thomas’s life hadn’t ever been peaceful. Even as a child in England, from about the time he could walk, he had to earn his keep around the household. His mother and father had no other children at that time, so he had to do whatever he could to pull his weight. After all, he was just another mouth to feed. 

He supposed that that was why he decided to go to the New World in the first place. He was a young man, sprightly and longing for adventure, even if everyone around him told him he wouldn’t last a day in the New World. 

But he didn’t want to be a burden on his parents. His mother had unexpectedly gotten pregnant when Thomas was fifteen, five years before leaving for the New World, and his little brother had been growing more rambunctious and needy by the day. Age hadn’t been kind to Thomas’s father, and it was getting harder and harder to keep the family afloat. Even if Thomas had found a job in a local tavern, it wasn’t nearly enough to keep them all fed. Something had to give. 

The New World was a perfect opportunity. If he went and they discovered gold there, he could send some of it home to his family. They could get his brother a better education, or afford a home outside the slums of London. Perhaps they could make something of themselves…

Thomas’s parents didn’t object. It wasn’t a surprise; Thomas had known all his life that they saw him more of just another burden than a son, so it would make perfect sense that they wouldn’t be particularly sorry to see him go. 

The only person he would miss was his brother. Barely five years old, he had cried for days when Thomas had sat him down and gently explained to him that he would be leaving and not coming back for a long time. 

It had killed him to see his brother upset, but he would be alright. He was still only a child, of the age where Thomas would become nothing more than a distant, fond memory. 

When he boarded the ship one sunny July afternoon, he didn’t look back. 

\-------

Thomas hadn’t expected to stay this long. Several years, perhaps, but nothing more than that. Only long enough to build the colony and mine for gold awhile. To think that he would stay forever was absurd. 

It was almost funny how it really turned out. 

See, Thomas never really fit in with the other men on the expedition. They teased him, forced him to do all their grunt work for them, all because he was slighter and somewhat prettier than most other men. He also never really wanted to participate in all the talk about...women. While the other men bragged about how many girls they had bedded, and how they missed their breasts and curves and thighs and kind smiles...Thomas would always turn fairly green along the gills. The others assumed it was because he was inexperienced and awkward, but he had never really looked at a woman that way. He was just...different. Men, with their strong backs and muscular arms and roguish grins, had always been infinitely more attractive. Of course, he tried to repress the feelings as much as possible given what others thought of men who looked at other men in such a way. He tried to tell himself that it was immoral and disgusting, but even so...late at night, when he was wide awake in his bedroll, it never hurt to imagine someone pressing against his back. Preferably someone with strong arms and a firm chest. 

To escape this neverending onslaught of teasing, Thomas began to spend more time in the woods. He wouldn’t do much most of the time, he would just sit along the riverbank or against a tree and just  _ exist.  _ It was said that the Indians of the New World liked to be amongst nature. It was always said in a mildly disgusted tone, as if nature was nothing more than a collection of unsavory and dirty items just waiting to attach themselves to your clothes or face. 

He had noticed that John began disappearing into the woods far more often as well, but it didn’t strike him why that was until Kocoum. 

Kocoum appeared to him one late afternoon in what must’ve been late August. Thomas had been sitting at the base of a great tree, idly weaving and unweaving long strips of grass in his hands and listening to the birdsong echo throughout the trees. 

The snap of a branch had echoed throughout the forest, and Thomas jerked to the side, blindly reaching for his rifle before he realized he had stopped bringing it weeks ago, finding it cumbersome. 

But what stepped out of the bushes didn’t seem dangerous, at least for the present moment. 

It was a man, clearly one of the members of the local Indian tribes, with dark brown skin and hair as black as the night sky. It hung freely to about the small of his back, controlled only with a few feathers. An animal skin of some sort hung around his waist, with a whiterock necklace around his neck. His expression looked stern and serious, as if he had caught Thomas somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. 

In some aspects, he later recalled, it was partially true. 

Thomas had been paralyzed in fear as the man approached him, kneeling down beside Thomas and examining him carefully. He had been frozen in fear, his breathing growing labored as the strange man reached out to touch his hair. The man’s expression had turned rather confused, as if he didn’t know whether or not it was real. 

Thomas let out a breathy squeak of fear, which finally seemed to pull the man out of whatever he was trying to accomplish. He had stood up again, posture ramrod straight, and tapped several fingers to his chest.

“Kocoum,” he had said simply, “Kocoum.”

That would be the first of many encounters Thomas would have with the man he had come to know as Kocoum. For many days and nights, they met at that same tree, trying to communicate as much as they could. Kocoum taught him the names of many common things, such as plants or animals, in the Indian language; while Thomas taught them to him in English. 

Thomas wasn’t sure when it started turning into something more. All he knew was that his thoughts were consumed with thoughts of Kocoum; his height, his strength, his strange brand of strength-infused kindness. At night, alone in his bedroll, he would take himself in his hand and pump himself to completion, Kocoum’s name on his lips. 

Thomas had been ashamed after that, failing to show up at their normal meeting spot for several days. But when he did return, Kocoum was there like always, steady as the beating drum. 

An apology had barely left his lips before Kocoum had shoved him up against a tree and kissed the breath out of him. 

After Kocoum had kissed him, everything seemed to happen in quick succession. Evidently, the Virginia Company had quickly realized that the New World didn’t have as much gold in the ground as they had been led to believe. Therefore, they decided it was in their best interests to pull the settlers out of the colony and back to England in order to avoid wasting money. 

But Thomas couldn’t bear to leave. Kocoum had become too important to him. He had only brought up the possibility of leaving only once, and Kocoum’s expression was akin to if Thomas had struck him. It was then he realized he couldn’t leave, no matter the cost. 

It was the last night of their due stay on the settlement when he had bumped straight into John while sneaking out of the settlement with only the clothes on his back. As it turned out, John had fallen in love with an Indian woman he had met while out hunting. Just like Thomas, he found that he couldn’t stand leaving her and decided that a life with the tribe was miles better than any life he could hope to achieve back in England. 

At that moment, everything that Thomas had been trying to hide for months had come spilling out. Kocoum, his different inclinations, how desperately he wanted to just  _ belong  _ somewhere--

John had silenced him with a single clap on the shoulder, sternly telling him that he didn’t give a damn if he liked men or women or anyone else, but that they really needed to get a move on before the sun rose and they were discovered. 

Several pieces of ripped clothes, some crushed berries made to look like blood, and a few clumps of scattered bear fur, and they were free. 

Lady Luck must’ve been on their side, for the rest of the men never went far enough as to discover the location of the village, and they left without much fuss. 

Finally, John could be with his woman(Pocahontas, Thomas later learned) and Thomas...Thomas could be with his Kocoum. 

Thomas smiled fondly, remembering how all of that had led up to today. It had now been two years since he had left England for the New World, and he couldn’t have been happier. Life in the village was peaceful and he had never felt more content. And best of all, Kocoum was at his side the entire time. The first night he had spent at the village after the ship had returned to England, Kocoum had bedded him for the first time. He still flushed at the memory, how Kocoum’s hands had held him down, how his mouth had kissed the knobs of his spine, and the feeling of Kocoum striking the spot deep inside of him that caused him to cum with a strangled gasp. 

Thomas also remembered panicking after that, on the verge of tears and rambling on and on about what the tribe would think before Kocoum quieted him with a kiss. He had explained that in their tribe, it was accepted that some men would prefer to share their lives with other men, and not with women. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it, Kocoum had said quietly, but sternly, and anyone who said otherwise was a fool. 

And they had never looked back. 

Thomas supposed he was somewhat of a housewife now, but he didn’t mind it. He actually preferred it over hunting, something Kocoum excelled at. His days were usually spent with the tribe’s women, tanning hides, venturing into the shallows of the forest to gather roots and berries, or sewing together clothes and blankets. His grasp on the Indian language had also improved considerably over the course of two years, and he was proud to say that he was practically fluent now. Communicating with the members of the tribe had since become practically a non-issue, and it was especially helpful in getting them to warm up to him initially. Thomas wasn’t embarrassed to say that he greatly favored their company over Englishmen, as they were much more intelligent, funny, and better-smelling. 

Kocoum usually returned from his daily outings in the early afternoon. Most of the time, he was hunting, but he fished on occasion as well. Whenever his lover could be sighted on the horizon, Thomas would always drop whatever he was doing and run to him, smiling as wide as could be. He would launch himself into Kocoum’s arms, regardless of what he was carrying, ignoring the titters of his female companions. Kocoum would always stroke his hair and kiss his head, whispering sweet words in his ear as they walked back to the village together. It was more satisfying than it should’ve been to know that Kocoum would only say those words to  _ him,  _ and no one else. 

Sometimes Kocoum’s trips would be longer, days perhaps, and Thomas hated to see him go. It was necessary, he knew that, but spending even hours away from his lover was taxing on his heart. On those long trips, Thomas would often neglect his duties a bit and sit at the very edge of the village, waiting for Kocoum to return. The tribe members often lightly teased him for it, but they understood better than anyone how far Thomas’s love for Kocoum went. 

After all, they were the ones that had to hear how Thomas cried out for Kocoum as they made love until the daylight. John and Pocahontas had personally taken it upon themselves to poke fun at how often it was, or to ask after the sordid details, and their laughs only grew more intense at Kocoum’s signature glare. 

John had adapted to village life well enough as well, and now he was just as adjusted as Thomas. The warriors had accepted him as one of them, and he had more than proven he was capable of providing for the tribe. And although Pocahontas would never admit it, she too dearly missed John while he was away. 

Yes, it was an idyllic existence, full of happiness and love. Thomas often found himself thinking that he would be content forevermore, if only he could have this life for...well, life. 

But, of course, when had Thomas’s life ever gone as planned? 


	2. the present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas comes down with a mysterious illness, and revelations are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! here's the next chapter, i hope you enjoy it!

The sickness started in the early morning, so early that the sun had still not fully cleared the horizon and the birds had not yet begun their daily song. 

Thomas was wrapped in Kocoum’s arms, pressed against his back, when he was awoken by a strange and very sudden feeling of nausea. It roiled his stomach and caused such a dizziness that he retched, sitting up in the bed of furs and clutching his head. Jesus...had he eaten something bad for dinner last night? Perhaps the fish he had eaten wasn’t cooked all the way through? 

He could feel Kocoum stirring beside him, missing his warmth, when the nausea became unbearably worse. Thomas hardly had time to drag himself out of the entryway before he was vomiting up the contents of his stomach on the grass outside he and Kocoum’s shared hut. 

He groaned, wiping his mouth with the backside of his hands and trembling from the force of his sickness. Never in his life had he felt worse, of that he was sure. 

Thomas hardly noticed the appearance of his lover behind him, holding back his hair and rubbing his back soothingly as he coughed up the last remnants of black stomach bile. 

“I’m sorry…” Thomas whispered, his voice shaking both out of illness and embarrassment, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Kocoum merely grunted, taking Thomas into his arms and hefting him up. The warrior stood, carrying his lover bridal-style back into their hut. 

“It is of no matter. Don’t apologize,” Kocoum said resolutely, laying Thomas back into their bed furrs and pulling the blanket up to his chin, “You are ill. Rest today.” 

Thomas made a face, moving to sit up. “No, I can’t...the women...they need--”

Kocoum pushed him back down, his face a picture of concerned stoicism. “Do not argue. I will speak to the women, they will understand. Go back to sleep for now.” 

Thomas made another weak noise of protest, but made no move to try and sit up again. He  _ was _ feeling rather tired...maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to sleep for a few more hours. 

He yawned, rolling over in the furs and curling up into a ball. The nausea was still there, but it wasn’t as bad now that he had retched it all up. 

Yes, perhaps he could spare to rest just a little more. After all, he’d be much more of a burden to the women this way. 

Without even realizing it, Thomas had lulled himself to sleep once more, huddling in the warm space where Kocoum had been just a few minutes before. Kocoum smiled softly, threading his fingers through Thomas’s summer-sun hair and pressing a light kiss to his temple. 

In his sleep, Thomas let out a sigh of content. 

\--------

It was well past midday by the time Thomas awoke again. The sun was already high in the sky, beating down on the village with its usual ferocity. Thomas groaned softly, sitting up in the furs and blinking the blurriness out of his eyes. He had to have been asleep for some time...he could already hear the chatter of the village filtering through the hut entrance as he blindly reached for his clothes. He carefully slipped them on, staggering to the entrance of the dwelling and pushing open the fur draped over the entrance. 

It was possible that the women were still over by the forest entrance gathering the seasonal roots. Maybe he wouldn’t be too late if he left now--

“You’re not going anywhere.” 

Thomas let out an unholy squawk, almost tripping over his own feet in his surprise. There, directly to the right of the entrance, sat Kocoum. Normally, he was out fishing or hunting this time of day, and so it was very strange to see him just...sitting there. 

He seemed to be using one of his many knives to whittle something that looked like a fishing spear, but he had stopped now, looking at Thomas with a reproachful gaze. “You’re ill. You need rest.” 

Thomas scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m feeling much better now. I just ate something strange, Kocoum,  _ honestly.  _ I’ll be alright.” 

Kocoum grunted, clearly not believing his lover. Thomas rolled his eyes, but his heart warmed. Kocoum’s love was shown more through actions than words, and it was very obvious that the seemingly stone-hearted warrior was  _ worried  _ about him.

Thomas couldn’t stop a grin from crossing his face and he squatted down besides Kocoum, placing a hand on his knee. “Don’t worry about me, alright? I do believe I’ve come a rather long way since you found me in the forest.” 

Kocoum sighed, setting his knife and spear aside before taking Thomas’s pale hand in his own, running his thumb over the ridges of Thomas’s knuckles. “Alright,” he agreed quietly, “But if you start to feel ill again, get one of the women to walk you back. I don’t want you to collapse with no one around to find you.” 

Pleased, Thomas nodded his assent. “I promise.” 

It was only then, with a conflicted expression on his face, that Kocoum let go of Thomas’s hand and allowed him to jog off in the direction of the root-gathering women. But even so, he could still feel his lover’s eyes on him all the way. 

The rest of the day was uneventful. Thomas caught up to his companions and after a few light-hearted teases about what could’ve kept him so late(“Kocoum told us you were ill, but you certainly could be flushed from...other things…” Chepi had joked, causing Thomas to burn brighter red than his hair), they began the day’s work. 

By the end of the day, when the sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon and they were making their trip back, Thomas was feeling significantly more jovial than he had that morning. He hadn’t felt the sickness he had that morning, and now he was confident it wasn’t serious, unlike what Kocoum seemed to think. He was perfectly alright, thank you very much. 

It was too bad that it couldn’t last. 

The very next morning, Thomas was out of bed even earlier, vomiting up even more than he had the previous day. And, just like that previous day, Kocoum led him back into the tent and insisted that he rest for the duration of the sun’s path across the sky. 

This time, though, Thomas didn’t fight. 

Kocoum stayed by his side for the day, once again neglecting his hunting duties to care for his lover. Thomas had to admit, it was nice to be doted on and to have his every whim and need answered and met. It reminded him of when he was a child and had the mumps, back when his mother saw him as more than just a chip in her shoulder. 

And really, Kocoum was such an excellent caregiver. Whenever Thomas seemed to just  _ think  _ about eating or drink, he was there with a bowl of thin broth or an animal skin full of water ready to tip down Thomas’s parched throat. If being ill was like this, Thomas mused, he wouldn’t mind being ill for a few more days. 

Unfortunately, as Thomas would learn, you had to be careful what you wished for. 

Over the next few days, Thomas’s condition would get exponentially worse. Now, he was vomiting multiple times a morning, even when his stomach had nothing left to give. He could hardly keep down anything that wasn’t the thinnest and saddest of soups and the bed furs had become his permanent refuge. Lord, it was an absolutely  _ hellish  _ time...all the nausea, paired with feeling as though he would never be able to taste or smell anything again without retching, made for a less than pleasant three days. 

But through all of it, Kocoum was there. The other warriors had to have been getting annoyed with him, Thomas could practically feel their murmurings from the bed furs, but Kocoum waved them off as if they were nothing more than smoke from a pipe. Thomas didn’t think his heart could get any fuller with love for his warrior. 

It was on the sixth consecutive day of Thomas’s mysterious affliction that Kocoum finally snapped. He had just finished vomiting up the thin soup he had sipped for breakfast just minutes before when Kocoum scooped him up in his arms, walking purposefully away from the hut and into the main circle of the village. 

“H-Hey!” Thomas squealed, wrapping his arms around Kocoum’s neck to keep himself from being jostled too much by his lover’s brisk pace, “Kocoum, where are we going? Put me down, I can walk, you know!” 

Kocoum gave him a sideways look, his eyes flashing. “We’re going to the healer’s.” 

Thomas chuckled weakly, still trying to squirm his way out of Kocoum’s iron grip. “Th-There’s really no need for it, I’ll be fine in just a few days--” 

“You are not fine,” Kocoum said icily, his grip tightening and pace quickening, “Your skin is paler than it was when you first arrived in this village, you cannot eat anything without emptying your stomach, and you can hardly stand without my help. I cannot watch you suffer anymore.” 

Kocoum’s tone made it clear this topic was not up for discussion, so Thomas thought it best to quiet down, just at least until they reached the healer’s. 

Now, there were actually several of those that possessed healing talents in their village, but Alsoomse was easily the most experienced of them all. She was later middle-aged and severe, her salt-and-pepper hair always pulled back from her face in a tight, manageable braid. Thomas was actually slightly afraid of her, never wanting to be on the receiving end of one of her stern glances, but he supposed to himself that he was used to them. He  _ did  _ live with Kocoum, after all. 

“Set him down here!” Alsoomse called not one second after they stepped into the hut. The scents and smells of various healing herbs and tonics assaulted Thomas’s nose as he was gently set down on a thin bed of cloths and fabrics. He wrinkled his nose, hoping that he wouldn’t vomit again all over Alsoomse’s nice floors. The embarrassment alone would kill him. 

“How’d...How’d you know about us coming in?” Thomas wondered aloud, moaning weakly at the jostling of his stomach as Kocoum set him down on the mat meant for patients. Kocoum whispered an apology, kneeling down besides Thomas’s head and smoothing away the limp hair from his eyes. 

Alsoomse bustled straight over, carrying with her various small bowls, most likely filled with herbs or other remedies. “Don’t be a fool, boy,” he said breezily, setting down the bowls beside him and kneeling as well, “Kocoum has been sick with worry for several suns. And you look only slightly better than a fish on its way to be gutted.” She took his hand and examined it, running her long fingers over his unhealthily pale skin. “Honestly, I’m quite surprised he did not bring you in sooner.” 

Thomas winced at her ministrations, feeling her dull nails rake across his skin as he was examined. “I’m sure it’s nothing…” he protested weakly, but even he didn’t believe that much anymore, “Just...seasonal sickness.” 

Alsoomse made a harrumphing sound, dropping his arm with a thud and moving onto his face. She poked at his cheeks, stretching them out and watching them redden with the contact. Thomas winced and squeaked and made weak protests, but he knew better than to try and fight with a woman like Alsoomse. At least Kocoum was there, holding him steady. Thomas, for what must’ve been the millionth time, thanked his God and the spirits of the tribe for allowing him to meet his lover. 

After a while, Alsoomse rose from her position at Thomas’s side, bustling over to a corner of the hut, where she picked up a waterskin. She inspected it for only a moment before returning back and thrusting it into Thomas’s hands. 

“Drink this.” she said sternly, “I do not believe you have seasonal illness, for your eyes are not red and your nose is not plugged. But this should relieve the nausea and stop your vomiting.” 

Thomas nodded, gingerly opening the waterskin and taking a small sniff. Surprisingly, it didn’t immediately make him want to retch into the nearest patch of grass. Carefully, he took a small sip and was pleased to find that it didn’t taste all that awful. It tasted vaguely of berries, but with a bitter note he couldn’t place. Ah, it didn’t matter. As long as it made the constant feeling of dizziness go away, he didn’t give a damn what the hell was in it. He took a larger swig, sighing in relief. The cloudiness was already beginning to go from his brain. 

Alsoomse seemed pleased at that and took the waterskin back, returning it to the corner where it belonged. However, she didn’t come back to Thomas’s side, but went straight to the hut’s hanging-fur entrance. 

“Wait!” Kocoum called, causing the healer to turn around for just a moment, eyebrow raised, “You must tell us what is afflicting him. He is suffering greatly, there has to be something you can do.” 

Alsoomse’s expression, where it had been devoid of emotion before, became curiously unreadable. “Truth be told, young warrior, I do not know what is wrong with your lover. His symptoms are strange. I need to confer with the other healers about this matter.” 

Kocoum looked angry at this point, brows furrowing and grip tightening on Thomas’s hand. “You must have some idea!” he protested. 

Alsoomse’s face only got more enigmatic. “Nothing ever does get past you, does it, young warrior?” She laughed quietly to herself. “You are correct. I do have an idea, but I am not sure. I have to consult the other healers and Kekata on this matter.” 

Now it was Thomas’s turn to be confused. “But...why would you need Kekata?” The shaman of their tribe normally only dealt with spiritual matters or illnesses that were strange and rare, ones that needed additional guidance from the spirits. If Kekata needed to be consulted, then….then….

But he never got an answer, for Alsoomse was already gone. Thomas sighed, rubbing a hand over his stomach absentmindedly. Quietly, so as not to disturb Kocoum, he wondered. What was wrong with him? He had brushed it off as nothing more than a bad case of the chills, but what if it was more than that? What if he was seriously ill? What if he died and never saw Kocoum or Pocahontas or John or Nakoma or any of his friends again? Oh, god…

“Stop that.” 

Thomas flinched violently, turning his head to see Kocoum staring at him with a disapproving look on his face. “Stop what?” 

Kocoum grunted. “You are overthinking. It is very obvious.” He squeezed Thomas’s hand once more. “Kekata is wise. The other healers are as well. You needn’t worry.” 

Thomas gave a weak smile in return. He appreciated his lover’s attempts to make him feel better, but it did little to quell his worry. 

They fell into a slightly uneasy, but otherwise comfortable silence. Kocoum kept running his thumb over Thomas’s hands, tracing the blue of his veins that had become more obvious as he paled. Thomas could tell Kocoum was thinking very hard about something. He always wore the same, exact expression when he was. But he knew better than to try and get it out of his warrior. It would be like trying to pry a piece of venison from the jaws of a bear. 

Thomas didn’t know how long they sat like stones in the hut before the fur over the door was being held aside, allowing the healers, Kekata, and the sunlight to stream into the darkness of the hut. 

Kocoum immediately stood up, standing aside in deference to Kekata. It clearly hurt him to do so, Thomas could easily see the twitch of his lip and the clenching and unclenching of his fists. He didn’t know why everyone always thought Kocoum was so serious. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. 

Kekata, to his credit, seemed to notice this right away. “Come, come, Kocoum…” he beckoned closer, “You may stay by his side. It will do you both some good.” 

Kocoum bowed his head stiffly. “Thank you, Kekata.” Without another second, he was back by Thomas’s side, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

Thomas smiled at the shaman, looking past him at the other two healers Alsoomse had brought. He didn’t really know either of them that well, but did know their names, at least. The first was Kanti. She was practically an opposite of Alsoomse in every way, save for their talent field. Kanti was short and stout and warm, not unlike a grandmother. Thomas vaguely remembered that she had no children or grandchildren of her own, and therefore treated everyone like her grandchild. The second healer was Nadie. She was on the younger side, only a few years older than Kocoum if Thomas was correct, but she truly lived up to her name. She had apprenticed for Kanti for most of her childhood, but eventually graduated on to begin practicing healing on her own once she showed an immense natural aptitude for it. 

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Kanti said warmly, a wide smile gracing her face, “I can assure you that you are not dying.” 

Thomas let out a weak chuckle, eyeing Kekata as he slowly knelt down beside Thomas. “I have spoken with our great healers, young  _ wagosh _ ,” Kekata began, using the nickname the tribe had given him(‘fox’, for his red hair), “And we have come to an agreement on what your condition might be. But it does require confirmation from the spirits. This kind of condition does not come around often.” 

And with that, Kekata began chanting softly, pulling up the cloth tunic Thomas wore during the day and placing his fingertips on his stomach. The chanting seemed to grow in intensity, but it was in the old version of the tribe’s language, and Thomas wasn’t nearly advanced enough to understand it even a little bit. All he could do was lay back and hope that the spirits would just tell Kekata straight-out what was  _ wrong  _ with him. 

And, as if Kekata or the spirits(or both), had read his mind, the chanting stopped just as suddenly as it had begun. The shaman removed his fingers from Thomas’s stomach, humming slightly. “It is as we suspected. The spirits have told me what we believe is true, and I have sensed this from this young  _ wagosh  _ for many suns.” He looked directly at Kocoum, then at Thomas. “You,  _ wagosh, _ are with child.” 

Silence. Then more silence. Then even more silence that stretched out for almost an uncomfortably long time. 

Thomas’s mind was racing. ‘With child’? Was that one of those strange euphemisms in the Powhatan language that he just hadn’t picked up yet? He figured he had a fairly good grasp on the language after two years of living among the tribe, but he definitely hadn’t gotten all the intricacies of it. What did it mean about his illness?

He looked to Kocoum for an answer, but the question died on his lips once he saw Kocoum’s face. It was the first time in Thomas’s two years of knowing the man that he looked shocked. His eyes were wide and he had gone completely rigid. The only movement was his eyes, which were flicking back and forth from Kekata’s face to Thomas’s stomach. “Are you certain?” he choked out. 

Kekata nodded. “The spirits have never steered me wrong before. There is a life growing inside your lover, a life you have given to him, Kocoum.” 

Thomas was still positively bewildered. What in the seven hells were they talking about? “I’m sorry…” he huffed, “Would someone explain to me what you all mean? I don’t understand…” 

Alsoomse, who up to that point had been quiet as a mouse, chose then to speak up. “When the women of this tribe grow round bellies, with a babe put there by their husband. With child, boy.” 

Thomas’s eyes grew wider than Kocoum’s and he could feel the color draining from his face. “You’re surely joking…” he protested weakly, “You can’t be serious. Men don’t...I wouldn’t...it’s not  _ possible…”  _

Kekata waved his hand, as if he fully expected this would happen. “I have sensed that things are different in your homeland. There, it is not common for men to carry a child, is that right?”

Thomas let out a hysterical sort of giggle, eyes darting to each of the tribe member’s faces to try and determine if they were lying to him or not. So far, everyone looked completely and deadly serious. “Not common?” he questioned, his breath escaping him in large huffs, “It’s...It’s  _ unheard of... _ in England. N-No...no man carries a child.” 

Kekata nodded, clearly taking the information in and processing it. “Ah, so this will come as a surprise to you. In our tribe...our spirits know what we need.” He brushed a piece of long, gray hair behind his ear. “They know when a man may be happier laying with another man over a woman. But, it was Ahone’s prerogative to only give the ability to create life to a woman. Long ago, there were many couples made up of two men that desperately wanted a child, but could not produce one. The spirits took pity on those men.” The shaman waved his staff in the air. “Now, if there should be a love between two men that extends so deep and true that it cannot be ignored, the spirits may choose to take pity on them and give them the ability to conceive life.”

Thomas’s mind was still reeling in shock, and he was grasping at straws. “B-But…! I’ve never seen a pregnant man in the village! Only women!” 

Kekata nodded again, as if he were explaining how to count to a mere child. “Men who prefer to lay with men are not as common as men who prefer to lay with women. A love that exists that is deep enough to please the spirits is even rarer. It only happens once every few generations or so. In fact--” the shaman pointed his staff towards Nadie, “--Nadie’s grandmother was born from a union between two men. It has not happened in our tribe since.” 

Thomas swallowed hard, wondering if he was going insane. There was no way...he wasn’t pregnant. He just couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. 

Kocoum, at least, seemed to be processing the information at a faster rate than he was. “Why has he been ill?” he asked sharply, “Is the child hurting him?” 

Nadie took it upon herself to answer that one. “It seems he is being overcome with morning sickness. It is normal for those who are with child to be unable to stomach food for many suns in the beginning. Although…” she frowned, “This is a more severe case than normal.” 

“Your body is going through changes,  _ wagosh,”  _ Kekata interjected, patting him gently on the arm, “The spirits have granted you a womb, but your body is not used to it. You will have a more difficult time carrying the child than most.” 

Thomas didn’t think he could get more terrified, but he felt the cool tendrils of fear creep down his spine. He knew how hard pregnancy could be on women, how they could even die because of it. John had told him how his mother had died giving him life, and how his father almost went mad with grief. And women’s bodies were  _ made  _ to carry a child. He couldn’t bear to think of dying in childbirth, leaving his child with only one parent. And  _ Kocoum.  _ The image of Kocoum insane with sorrow flashed through his mind and he seized up, eyes rolling back in his skull as he fainted dead away. The last thing he saw before his eyes shut was Kocoum leaning over him, worry written all over his face, saying his name. 

\------------

“ _ Thomas!”  _ Kocoum shouted, fear seizing his heart as he watched his lover’s eyes shut and his body go completely limp. He took his shoulder, shaking it furiously. “Wake up, please!  _ Thomas!”  _

“Silence, young warrior,” Alsoomse said sternly, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him back. “He’s only fainted. And from what he’s just learned, I don’t blame him in the slightest.” 

“Yes, ease yourself, Kocoum,” Kanti said kindly, coming up behind him as well, “Your boy will be fine. I imagine the shock just got to him.” 

Truth be told, the shock had gotten to Kocoum as well. He was just much better at hiding what he felt than Thomas. The thought that he had managed to impregnate his lover was certainly a point of pride for his ego, but the worry and fear far overshadowed it. Thomas was delicate, even if he had gotten stronger during his time with the tribe. Kocoum didn’t think he would be able to bear it if he lost his lover to the stress of carrying a child and giving it life. 

“He has a long road ahead of him,” Kekata said sagely, watching the slow rise and fall of Thomas’s chest, “You must guide him through it, Kocoum. You are the man who put the child inside of him, and now you must take responsibility.” 

The warrior nodded, willing to do whatever it took to ensure Thomas’s safety. “What must I do? I’ll do anything.” 

Kekata chuckled, clearly expecting that answer. “I meant what I said before.  _ Wagosh  _ does not have an easy road ahead of him. He will be in pain and discomfort for many moons. But as he protects your child with his body, you must protect them both with yours.” 

Kocoum sat up straighter, nodding curtly. “I swear to the spirits I will do anything it takes to keep him safe and happy.”

The shaman hummed in concurrence, slowly getting to his feet. “I shall take my leave, then. Come, Kanti, Nadie. We shall leave them in peace.” 

Kocoum did not watch them leave, as his eyes were still fixated on Thomas’s. Alsoomse said nothing, only staring calculatingly at the two men. 

“How far along is he?” the warrior murmured suddenly, rubbing a hand over Thomas’s still-flat stomach, “How much longer?” 

Alsoomse grunted. “From what Kekata has told me, he has been carrying your child for over a moon. He still has many left.” 

Kocoum nodded, making a decision in his head. “We shall leave now,” he announced, and he took Thomas into his arms once more, standing up with purpose and conviction. “I thank you greatly for your help, Alsoomse. We shall return if his condition worsens.” 

Alsoomse waved her hand. “It was nothing. Take care of him, you hear me?” 

Nodding, Kocoum bowed his head slightly and walked out of the hut into the sunlight, squinting slightly to adjust. 

There was one thing he knew for sure. He and Thomas would have much to talk about when they returned home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey again! leave comments if you enjoyed this, it inspires me to write faster.


	3. the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas goes through the trials and tribulations of carrying a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! here's the last chapter of this fic! it's really been a labor of love, and i really enjoyed writing it. i know this pairing is very obscure, but i just love these two so much. i really hope you guys enjoy this final chapter, and let me know what you think of it in the comments! they really do make my day, and i will love you forever even if it's short. 
> 
> warnings: graphic depictions of pregnancy, explicit childbirth, and fleeting mentions of blood
> 
> if you're uncomfortable with reading the birth scene, stop reading at the bold text and resume at the next instance of bold text.

When Thomas woke, it was to the sound of singing. It was low, rhythmic, and quite simple melodically, but Thomas found himself wanting to bask in it. There were hands rubbing his stomach too, soothing the ache he had been feeling for the past several days. It was quite nice, really…

It was only then that all that had been revealed to him earlier that day came crashing down. His eyes flew open and he attempted to sit up, only to be held down by firm, warm hands. 

“Lay back and rest,” a voice came from his left, and he looked over to see Kocoum, concern painting his face. His hands were still on Thomas’s belly, and he suddenly came to the realization that  _ Kocoum  _ had been the one singing to him. He didn’t peg Kocoum as the singing type. Not once, in the two years of knowing him, had he ever heard his lover utter a single note. 

“I…” Thomas breathed, glancing around to see that they were home again, “I...was it real? Am I...am I…” He struggled to get the words out, but Kocoum knew exactly what he meant. 

“Yes, it’s true,” he said softly, taking Thomas’s hand and squeezing it, “You are carrying my child.”

Thomas nodded slowly, the nauseous feeling beginning to return. Dear god...he was  _ pregnant.  _ Somewhere deep inside of him, a tiny being was using his body...a being that would eventually grow into a  _ person.  _

“Oh,  _ god… _ ” he whimpered, falling into the warmth of Kocoum’s arms, “Kocoum...I c-can’t...what if I...what if y-you…” He hiccuped, letting the tears fall freely as he sobbed into his lover’s chest. He wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t  _ do  _ this. It would be too hard, what if something happened, he’d never be able to forgive himself…

“Shhh…” Kocoum shushed him, running his fingers through Thomas’s hair, “You might not have to.” 

Thomas quickly realized he had been speaking all of those things aloud, but what Kocoum had just said stopped his tears in their tracks. He looked up at Kocoum in pure shock, the cogs in his mind turning. “What...What did you say?”

Kocoum looked down at him, expression unreadable, and he sighed. “I swore to the spirits I would keep you safe and happy, and I don’t intend on breaking that promise. If you believe this child will hurt you while it is developing inside you, or if being with child will cause you great pain and sadness...there are ways to end it.” 

Thomas couldn’t breathe. “Ways to end it?” he parroted dumbly. 

Kocoum seemed to wince, but he nodded all the same. “When women are with child, they are told to avoid...certain plants. Those plants, if eaten, will cause the woman to lose the child.” The warrior took a deep breath, unable to meet Thomas’s gaze. Instead, he looked away, staring at the wall of their hut as if it held something of great import. “If you asked me, I could...gather those plants for you. If you wished.” 

Thomas understood what Kocoum was trying to say, but for some reason, it made his heart ache. Did Kocoum not want a child with him? Did he think he was incapable of safely carrying a babe to full term? Or...would Kocoum have preferred a woman to carry his first child? After all, women were made for these things. He couldn’t see inside Kocoum’s head. Maybe he was ashamed or embarrassed of him. The mere thought of it caused Thomas to look down at his knees, not wanting Kocoum to see the expression on his face. 

“Do you want the child?” he asked quietly, almost too quietly to be heard, but he could tell his lover had heard him by the way his breath hitched. 

“It does not matter what I want,” Kocoum replied, his voice strangely taut, “I will not lie to you, Thomas. I am overjoyed that I was able to put a child inside of you. I cannot stop thinking of what you would be like once your belly is swollen, how beautiful you would be…” He swallowed audibly. “But you are the one carrying the child, not me. It is your happiness that comes first. If you will be unhappy or in too much pain, I will not force you to carry the child for my sake.” 

Thomas didn’t reply for a long moment. Instead, he looked down at his stomach and placed one hand on it. He’d only known he was pregnant for a short time, but Kocoum’s words only solidified his resolve. 

“In England, men don’t carry children,” he said finally. He gave a bitter laugh, “If my parents could see me now, they’d think I was an abomination to God. Every doctor in the country would want to take me apart.” He felt Kocoum’s arms around him tighten at that. “But...when I think about the child...I want to protect them. I want to watch them grow. Even if I know it’ll be difficult, I want…” He swallowed, looking back at Kocoum with blazing eyes, “I want to keep them.” 

Kocoum’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting this response. Very slowly, as if Thomas was an easily spooked animal, he brought his warm hands up to cup Thomas’s cheeks. He wiped away the tears that still glittered in his lover’s eyes, bringing their foreheads together. 

“You have no idea how joyful you have made me,” Kocoum whispered, “I swear to you...I will do everything I can to keep you and the child safe. You will never want for anything, that I can promise you.” 

Thomas smiled, reaching up to cling to his lover and simply take him in. Kocoum loved him, and he loved Kocoum, and they were going to make it through this. And at the end of everything...they’d have a child, someone borne out of the deepest and truest of loves. Thomas knew he already loved the tiny thing growing inside of him, and he knew Kocoum did too. 

No matter what happened, no matter how hard it was, they’d be together. That was enough. 

\---------------------

Realistically, Thomas knew pregnancy was hard. He’d been living with the tribe long enough to be present for the arrival of a few babes, and he’d listened patiently to the gripes and groans of the women in his social circle. He knew pregnancy was painful and made your whole body ache. He knew it messed with your mind. 

He just didn’t think it’d be this bad. 

In Thomas’s mind, he came up with three separate reasons why the child in his stomach was making his life  _ hell. _

First, the cravings. 

Thomas had never been a particularly picky person. He had always eaten what was put in front of him, borne from a lifetime of impoverishment, and there were very few foods he actively disliked. Similarly, he had never had strong preferences for some foods over others. Everything was good because everything was food. 

The child changed all that. 

Very soon after the visit to Alsoomse’s, the morning sickness had begun to die down significantly. He could actually eat food that wasn’t broth and keep it down, which made him as happy as a clam. And, despite Kocoum’s protests, he actually felt well enough to resume his daily duties with the women. But, as if the child was trying to capitalize on his good mood and returned appetite, it began to send him flashes of yearning for specific types of food. It was so strong that the first time it happened, Thomas actually dropped the basket he was carrying, fingers trembling with the want.

It didn’t help that he was craving the strangest thing, berries mashed with the flesh of a fish. Thomas had never had it before(never even had the urge to try it), but suddenly it was all he could think about. He felt as if he’d  _ die  _ if he couldn’t eat it within the next three seconds. 

The women understood when he asked them, voice shaking, if this was normal. A good amount of them had been with child before and knew what having that hunger inside of you was like. 

“Oh, it was awful!” Chepi crowed, waving her arms about, “You wouldn’t believe what I ate when I was pregnant with my third child. She would not ever let me  _ sleep,  _ not without her maize dipped in boar’s blood.” 

Thomas had paled, hoping it wouldn’t come to that, but the women simply laughed. They told him to return home to Kocoum, that the man was probably driving himself halfway to the grave with worry that his pregnant lover needed him. 

Well, they weren’t wrong. 

As soon as Thomas returned to their hut(out of breath from the sprint) and requested what he wanted, Kocoum leapt into action. Thomas hardly had time to blink before the mashed berries and fish was placed in front of him. Kocoum sat beside him, watching him intently. “Eat.” 

Thomas did, murmuring his thanks before he was devouring the mixture, forgetting himself momentarily as he ate. It was just... _ so  _ good...why didn’t he eat this more often?

_ Oh, right _ , he thought sarcastically, wiping the last remnants of juice from the edge of his mouth,  _ Because it’s disgusting.  _

He glanced at Kocoum, who was looking at him with a mix of satisfaction and pride. Thomas recalled an earlier conversation he had had with one of the older women in his circle, Nuna, who had birthed six healthy children and probably knew more about pregnancy and childbirth than anyone in the tribe, save for perhaps Alsoomse. 

“Men are simple creatures,” she had said, fondly smiling at her husband in the distance as she separated roots, “They live for only one thing during the period their lover is with child, and that is to take care of them. They will want to help you with everything and preen their feathers afterwards. It is in their instincts to protect and it is in their instincts to be proud. Their lover being with child allows them to do both.” 

As soon as Thomas had been revealed to be pregnant, Kocoum had hardly taken his eyes off him. It was probably because he was being overly protective, but Thomas couldn’t deny that there was always a spark of personal satisfaction in his eyes, as if taking care of his pregnant lover sated something deep inside him. 

“You don’t have to watch me all the time, you know…” Thomas said then, flushing a light fuschia, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

A hint of a smile crossed Kocoum’s face, and he reached out to pull Thomas into his arms, burying his nose in his bright red hair. 

“Is it a shame to want to gaze upon something beautiful?” he whispered, pulling an indignant squawk from Thomas’s lips. 

Yes, the cravings were a bother most of the time, but the attention he received from Kocoum made up for it. 

Mostly. Nothing would make up for the fact that Kocoum’s child made him eat crab legs mixed with the strained juice of a squash. Nothing. 

The second item on the list of why the child was making his life  _ hell  _ were the mood swings. Thomas liked to believe he was a fairly mellow person, if a bit skittish, but not prone to any large outbursts. That too was something the child seemed determined to change. 

A little over three moons into the pregnancy, just when the bump in his belly was just starting to show, was when his mood started making a fool out of him. He would burst into tears, or shout like a madman over the littlest inconveniences. Whenever John would laugh too loudly, he’d snap at him to shut his mouth. Whenever Nakoma gently pointed out a mistake in his weaving, he’d start sobbing. At times, it seemed that if anyone even  _ breathed  _ wrong near him, he’d have an absolute fit. He always felt absolutely awful afterwards, profusely apologizing until he was on the verge of hyperventilating while the person in question reassured him over and over again that no, he was  _ not  _ an awful person and no, they did  _ not  _ hate him. 

Kekata  _ had  _ said that his pregnancy would be more difficult than most, so the tribe understood, just as they understood most things, and Thomas would be forever grateful. 

Case in point: the one time he had actually thrown Kocoum out of their hut for the night. Thomas would still flush red every time someone jokingly brought it up. 

It started just like any other night. Thomas had actually managed to convince Kocoum to resume his hunting and fishing duties(“You can’t help the tribe by  _ mothering  _ me, Kocoum!”), so it was sunset by the time the warrior returned, two pheasants in his hunting satchel. 

“Welcome home,” Thomas had said warmly, stoking the fire he had managed to start. 

Kocoum gave him a brief smile, setting his bag down and walking over to sit by his lover. He gave him a brief kiss on the temple before he was bending down, rubbing his hands over Thomas’s distended stomach. 

“Hello,” he said softly, “Did you miss me? Yes, your father’s here. He missed you.” 

He continued on like that for another several minutes before straightened back up, turning back to his satchel to prepare the pheasant for consumption. 

Thomas felt his heart sink. Kocoum had just spent so much time fawning over his belly and the child inside of it, while barely even sparing a glance at him. Come to think of it, many of Kocoum’s affections had been focused on the child recently. Thomas was desperately craving affection, but it felt as though Kocoum only had eyes for one person now. 

He stifled a sob, bringing his hand up to his mouth as tears began flowing freely down his face. Did Kocoum only love him for the child he carried? Had he begun to see Thomas as unattractive, now that he had a temper and a swollen stomach? 

Kocoum, to his credit, noticed right away. 

“Thomas, what’s the matter?” he asked, worry apparent in his voice, “Are you in pain? Is the child hurting you?” 

Despite Kocoum’s concern, Thomas felt his heart ache even more. “Do...Do you only love me because of the child?” 

Kocoum cocked his head, worry quickly giving way to confusion. “What? What are you talking about?” 

Thomas knew the dam was about to burst. “You only care for the child, right?” 

The warrior’s eyes widened and he scooted closer to Thomas, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. “Of course not. Yes, I care for the child, but I care for you as well--” 

“You’re lying!” Thomas burst out, dissolving into sobs, “You don’t want me anymore!”

Kocoum looked like a startled deer, but he still didn’t falter. He put his free arm around Thomas’s shoulders, pulling him close and shushing him gently. “Of course I do, you have no idea how much--” 

Thomas shrugged off the affection, pointing at the entrance to their hut with a trembling finger. “Get out. I don’t want to see you tonight.” 

At that, Kocoum looked...almost sad. “Thomas, I--” 

“Leave!” Thomas shrieked, tears sliding down his cheeks, “Just go...please…” 

There was a beat of silence. Then, Kocoum slowly stood up and walked to the hanging fur entrance. He gave his lover one last look of longing before slowly stepping out and vanishing from view. 

Exhausted, Thomas let the dam break and he began crying in earnest. He poured all out all his insecurities, his fears, his bone-deep tiredness into the air, filling the tent with his misery. 

Finally, after what seemed like many hours, he stopped. The tears had run dry, and all he wanted to do now was go to sleep and forget this day ever happened. Slowly, and only for the sake of the babe, he rummaged through their food stores and pulled out several pieces of dried fruit. He ate them morosely, absentmindedly rubbing his stomach as he did so. He didn’t want to think about anything at the moment, so he kept his mind as blank as possible. It would hurt less that way. 

Finally, he dragged himself over to their bed furs and laid down, feeling a deep ache in his body. He had just gotten to the point where it was uncomfortable to sleep on his stomach, so he shifted to his side and closed his eyes. His thoughts shifted to Kocoum for just a moment before he shut them out, and just like that...he was out. 

\------ 

The next morning, Thomas awoke to a curious empty feeling on his back. Normally, Kocoum was there with his arms wrapped around his lover, but that morning was...different. 

Thomas furrowed his brow, opening his eyes slightly and forcing himself to sit up. He took a look around, feeling his heart drop once he realized Kocoum wasn’t asleep next to him. Where had he gone? 

Suddenly, the events of the previous night came crashing down on him and he paled. Faster than he thought was possible, he scrambled out of the furs and began stumbling to the hanging fur entrance. God in Heaven, what had he done?

“Kocoum!” he shouted, bursting out of their hut and wildly looking around for his lover, “ _ Kocoum!”  _

“I’m here.” 

Thomas whirled around, his frantic eyes coming to rest on the warrior he had been searching for. Kocoum looked like he hadn’t slept. There were dark rings under his eyes and his hair looked unkempt. His posture was stiff, as if he had been sitting that way all night. His face, despite what he had been put through, was calm. Wordlessly, as if he knew exactly what Thomas needed, he opened his arms. 

Feeling more tears run down his face, Thomas barreled into his arms and began crying loudly, burying his face into Kocoum’s broad chest. 

“I’m s-so sorry!” he sobbed, shaking like a leaf in the wind, “I didn’t mean...how could I...I’m so  _ sorry!”  _

Kocoum didn’t say anything back, he simply brushed his fingers through Thomas’s hair and listened. 

“I didn’t m-mean anything I s-said!” Thomas wailed, wanting to claw out his tongue for saying such foolish things, “I know...I know you l-love me, I was just...I wasn’t thinking, I was being a  _ fool!”  _

He was about to say more when Kocoum cupped his cheeks with his large hands, raising his face so he was eye to eye with the warrior. “Don’t apologize…” he murmured, right before he was pressing his lips to Thomas’s in a soft, sweet kiss. 

Thomas only froze for a moment before giving in, wrapping his arms around Kocoum’s neck and leaning into the kiss. He hoped that he could convey all of his apologies through it, and it was slightly disappointing when his lover broke away. 

“I know you are struggling with carrying a child…” Kocoum whispered, resting his forehead on Thomas’s, “I cannot imagine what you are going through. But I have been told things by others, and believe me…” He laughed, something so rare and precious that Thomas couldn’t help but stare. 

“Believe me,” Kocoum continued, “You are far from the first pregnant wife to throw their husband from their home. The child is playing with your emotions, and they will make you say things you don’t mean. We must learn that lesson early.” 

Thomas relaxed in his husband’s hold, feeling the weight of his worry lift from his shoulders. He still felt positively awful accusing Kocoum of not loving him, but his warrior’s words did make him feel marginally better. 

“Still, it must have been hard sitting out here all night by yourself…” he mumbled, snuggling into Kocoum’s chest, “Can I make it up to you?” 

Kocoum looked deep in thought for a moment. Finally, he turned to Thomas and ruffled his hair. “No need. You being here with me is enough repayment.” 

Thankfully, that was the worst that the moodiness ever made Thomas do. In fact, the incident seemed to make Kocoum even clingier to his pregnant husband, smothering him with attention and affection. Thomas wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

Still, there was still one item on his list of reasons why the pregnancy was making his life  _ hell _ ...and that was the pain. 

Thomas knew that when women were pregnant, they were often in pain. He wasn’t ignorant, he knew that they suffered greatly to birthe the next generation of humans from their bodies, but by God and country...he didn’t think it’d be  _ this much.  _

The first several moons of pregnancy were bearable. Sure, his feet began to swell and he tired much more easily than before, but he was still able to complete his daily tasks. But after he had been pregnant for about six moons, he began to notice how much his body  _ hurt  _ all the time. 

At this point, his stomach was rather large, swollen with the growing life inside of him. Kocoum could barely keep his hands off his stomach, talking to the child in a low voice. The child(who Thomas discovered was quite the kicker) often quieted when Kocoum did this, and he was grateful. 

“Why do they only calm down when you’re around?” he grumbled, sighing as Kocoum’s magic hands soothed the tantrum the child was throwing inside of him, “I can never seem to get them to settle by myself.” 

“Mm,” Kocoum grunted, “Perhaps it’s because I always tell them to not make trouble for you.” 

Thomas told the child that every minute, but he decided not to say anything. He could already tell their child would truly be their father’s son or daughter. 

Still, the pains that began once he reached his seventh moon of pregnancy were borderline unbearable. It was like knives being twisted into his gut, and the first time it happened, he had nearly broken down, fearing he was losing the child. 

Kocoum couldn’t rush him to Alsoomse’s fast enough, eyes wild with worry as he barged into her hut without even knocking. It was the middle of the night, but that didn’t worry the couple as much as the potential of losing their child. 

Fortunately, they weren’t. Alsoomse gave him a thorough examination and determined that it was only his body preparing itself for birth. 

“Men are generally not made for children,” she had explained, “It is like Kekata told you before. You are bound to have a harder time than most.” 

But if this was what it felt like in the seventh moon, he couldn’t imagine how it would feel for the remainder of his pregnancy. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

Well, he did anyway. The ninth month had nearly arrived, and Thomas felt as bloated and disheveled as a beached whale. His stomach had grown so large that he could no longer see his feet, and it caused him great pain to walk. Even though he still insisted on doing everything himself, Kocoum was firm. He insisted that Thomas stay inside their tent unless he was with him, fearing that something would happen to Thomas or the child should he venture out alone. 

Secretly, Thomas was glad. He had protested at first, but Kocoum made it so easy to stay in their bed furs all day. Anything Thomas wanted or needed, Kocoum would do it for him without a second thought. For the millionth time, Thomas was grateful for his husband. Without Kocoum, he would’ve gone insane long ago. 

Currently, he was sitting alone in the hut, trying to catch up on the meat curing. Kocoum had cut down on his hunting and fishing duties in order to spend more time with him, but that didn’t dull his skills. Last time he went on a trip, he had come home with four rabbits, two ducks, and a wild boar. It was far too much for the both of them, so they donated the boar and two rabbits to the communal stores, but the rest of the game still needed skinning and curing. 

Kocoum wasn’t there, having gone out to fetch Thomas one of his cravings. They had died down once Thomas entered his seventh moon of pregnancy, but they still occasionally reared their ugly head. He had awoken with a very strong urge for a very specific kind of root. The problem was that the root in question was an hour’s walk away, only growing in a certain area of the riverbank. Kocoum had hemmed and hawed, not wanting to leave his heavily pregnant husband, but he had eventually given in and left with a promise to be back as soon as possible. So now all Thomas could do was wait. 

\-----------------------

**The cramps started small.** They weren’t any more painful than most of the aches Thomas had been experiencing throughout his pregnancy, so he ignored them at first. Now that he was close to nine moons, the child was growing more fussy by the day. A restlessness to come out, he reasoned. 

“Mm, can’t you give me a little break?” he asked fondly, stroking his stomach, “It hurts when you’re angry. Do you miss your father?” 

The only response he got were the pains growing even worse, causing him to gasp softly. Tears filled the corners of his eyes and he took a deep breath, clutching his belly like a lifeline. 

“Please don’t do this now…” he pleaded, “Not without Kocoum here…” 

Of course, his body didn’t listen to his pleas and soon the pain was so bad, he could hardly breathe. 

Thomas wasn’t especially knowledgeable on the ins and outs of late-term pregnancy, but he knew this wasn’t normal. 

Suddenly, there was a sharp, stabbing pain in his abdomen and it ripped a scream from Thomas’s throat. He fell on his side, panting and shaking, wishing it would all just  _ stop.  _

Just then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, there was a sudden gush of liquid down his leg. The tangy scent of blood in the air made him dizzy and he rested his cheek on the cool, packed earth of the hut bottom. Ah. It all made sense now. 

He was in labor. 

A stream of sunlight suddenly hit his face and he squinted up at the face that had just entered. Was it Kocoum? Had he returned?

No. It was Pocahontas, a worried expression on her face as she entered. “Thomas! I heard you scream, what’s--” She stopped short, taking in his shivering form, the pain etched on his face, and the fluid mixed with blood that was still gushing down his leg. Immediately, she understood what was going on. 

“Don’t worry, Thomas,” she promised, rushing over to help him onto the bed furs, “I’ll get the healers. It’ll be alright.” 

She began to stand when Thomas seized her wrist, pulling her back down. “Kocoum…” he croaked out, wincing as another rush of pain surged through him, “He’s down by the riverbank...he’s getting ginger roots for me. Please...I need…” 

Pocahontas nodded, gently pulling her wrist from his grip. “I’ll tell the healers. Kocoum will be here.” And with that, she was gone, running faster than the wind. 

The next few minutes were a haze of pain, only broken slightly when Alsoomse, Kanti, and Nadie burst through the entrance of the hut, kneeling down by his side. 

“That useless boy!” Alsoomse was growling, kneeling down beside Thomas and unpacking her herbs and concoctions from her bag, “What was he thinking, leaving him behind so close to birth?” 

“Oh, hush!” Kanti said, gesturing to Thomas, “You don’t want to upset him.” 

Alsoomse grumbled, but ceased her complaining. “Thomas, can you hear me?” 

Thomas, barely conscious from the pain at that point, could only nod. 

“Good,” Alsoomse said briskly, “We still have time.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a bottle, carefully unstopping it and dipping her fingers into it. It was clearly a cream of some kind, and Thomas raised no objection as she spread it over his belly. 

“This will ease the pain a bit,” she explained, “It won’t be very much, but it should keep you from fainting.” 

Thomas mumbled a thank you, but there was still only one thing on his mind. 

“Kocoum…” he murmured, watching as the women stopped their bustling and glanced over at him, “Where…is he coming?” 

“He’s coming,” Nadie said kindly, taking his hand and squeezing it, “We sent Mingan after him. He is our fastest runner. Kocoum will be here soon.” 

The thought soothed Thomas and he lay back on the fairs, allowing Alsoomse and Kanti to spread his legs to check how far along he was. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his pants, but he didn’t mind. The air was soothing. 

“His water has already broken, so it won’t be long now,” Alsoomse said to Kanti, “He will have to push very soon.” She let his leg down, but Thomas kept his legs open. “You are lucky, boy,” she said to him next, her eyes piercing his soul, “The spirits have blessed you with a fast labor. But I will warn you, it will not be easy.” 

Thomas was about to say something else when suddenly, there was a shout outside the hut. He barely had time to look up before Kocoum was bursting into the hut. His eyes were wild and frenzied and his chest was heaving, as if he had run the entire way back to the village. Strangely, Thomas could sense something akin to...fear on Kocoum’s face. He had never seen his husband scared before, but he decided he didn’t like it. 

“I’m so sorry…” he said, staggering towards Thomas and falling to his knees, “You needed me...you  _ needed  _ me and I wasn’t there. Forgive me, please…” 

Thomas shook his head, smiling despite the pain. “Your child is just full of surprises. Come on, then.” he reached out a hand for Kocoum to take, which Kocoum did. 

Alsoomse fixed Kocoum with a withering glare. “Now’s not the time to berate you for leaving, so I won’t,” she began, “But I’m warning you...I’ve kicked out more than a few husbands who have been utterly unhelpful to their laboring wives. If you can’t sit down, shut your mouth, and do whatever it takes to help him through this, I won’t hesitate to throw you out of this hut myself. Do you understand me?” 

Kocoum nodded, his eyes turning hard as stones. “I do.” He turned his attention back to Thomas, eyes softening as he reached out with his free hand to wipe away the sweat beading on his husband’s forehead. 

They sat like that for a while as the healers periodically checked how much longer he needed to wait before he would be allowed to push. Thomas could feel their child sinking lower and lower in his abdomen and he let out a moan of pain, squeezing Kocoum’s fingers so hard he vaguely wondered if they would break. 

“Thomas, my child, it is time,” Kanti said suddenly, looking up at him over his spread legs, “Now, I need you to push as hard as you’re able. It will hurt, but you must bear it.” 

Weakly, Thomas nodded. He took a deep breath, bearing down and pushing with all his might. He ripple of pain zipped down his spine and he wailed, his back arching off the ground. “Please!” he begged to no one in particular, “ _ Please!  _ God, it  _ hurts!”  _

Kocoum soothed him, stroking his cheek and whispering to him. “Shh, you’re doing so well...you’re doing so well…” 

Thomas sobbed, tears of pain flowing freely down his cheeks as he began pushing again. His open legs were spasming, but he felt no reprieve. “Oh, god…” he moaned, the pain clouding his senses, “Oh, god...it hurts...it hurts so much…” He vaguely realized that in his primal state of pain and fear, he had reverted back to English, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It hurt so much. He wanted it to stop. 

“Push, Thomas, push!” Nadie shouted, rubbing his thighs soothingly, “You have to!” 

Thomas felt as though he could hardly breathe, but he found it within himself to push once more, bearing down as hard as he could. Through his murky thoughts, he heard more screaming and only realized it was his own when Kocoum rested a hand on his cheek. 

“You are so strong, my love…” Kocoum whispered, “You are so beautiful...you have carried our child for nine moons and they are coming now...but you must be strong for them. Just a little longer…” 

It was several more minutes of endless pain and screaming and soft coos of love before there was progress. 

“I can see the head!” Alsoomse announced, shifting her stance as if she was about to go into battle, “Thomas, push as hard as you can!  _ Now!”  _

Thomas internally breathed a sigh of relief. Finally...their child was coming. Feeling a new burst of energy, he did his best to ignore the pain and  _ pushed.  _ He felt something breach his hole and he briefly came to the realization that it was his child’s  _ head.  _

“Oh, darling, the head is out!” Kanti said excitedly, “Just a bit more, dear, and you will have your child.” 

He screamed, gathering the last remnants of his strength to push his child out of his body. It took several seconds, but the pressure in his hole slowly built up and with a sudden gush of liquid, the child was out. Thomas sagged into the furs, body positively limp with relief and joy. 

“My child…” he croaked, “Are they okay? Are they safe?” 

His own question was answered when the child’s screaming filled the air, angry and confused at the loss of their mother’s warmth and protection. It was the screaming of a healthy babe, and Thomas felt new tears begin to leak from his eyes. But they weren’t tears of pain, no...they were tears of joy. 

“It’s a boy!” Nadie said jubilantly, cutting the umbilical and tying it off before wrapping the child in a swaddling blanket, “Ten fingers and ten toes.  **Oh, congratulations!”**

She handed the child over to Thomas, who adjusted his son against his chest and gazed at him with love. All the pain he had experienced during pregnancy and during childbirth...all of it went away as he gazed upon his child. The boy’s eyes were scrunched and wet from crying, and he was as pink as the flesh of a fish, but he was  _ perfect.  _

On some instinctive level, the child seemed to recognize who had housed him in their body for nine moons and he quieted, opening his eyes and staring up at Thomas. Thomas could feel the tears of joy sliding down his cheeks as he brushed a single finger over his son’s tiny, soft cheek. His eyes...his eyes were Kocoum’s eyes. They were the same rich brown, the same expressive depths...everything. His skin was Kocoum’s as well, a light brown color that reminded him of the earth by the riverbanks. But his hair...Thomas could hardly keep himself from choking up again. 

His hair was  _ red.  _

Their son didn’t have that much of it, but it was there as clear as day. A little tuft on top of the babe’s head, fuzzy to the touch. 

“Kocoum…” he whispered, voice raw from screaming, “He’s perfect.” 

He glanced at Kocoum, smiling at the expression on his face. Kocoum was staring at their son with complete and utter awe, as if he was some priceless jewel that had to be protected at all costs. He was trembling slightly, and Thomas chuckled softly. 

“Here…” he said, transferring their son to Kocoum’s arms, “Hold your son.” He patted his child’s head softly, relishing in the small coo he made. “That’s your father.” 

Kocoum’s arms wrapped protectively around their son, and he brought him up to his forehead, resting the child against it. He whispered something too soft to be made out, but Thomas knew that they were words of absolute love. 

“I love you…” Kocoum exhaled, looking over at Thomas with adoration in his eyes, “I love you so much. You were so strong and brave and beautiful...and now we have a son.” 

Thomas laughed, accepting their son as he was handed back to him. “He was worth it,” he said truthfully, “I love him so much...and I love you, Kocoum. Thank you for staying by my side, even if I was a demon for half of it.” 

Kocoum gave him a rare smile and leaned forward, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. They stayed like that for a while, just kissing and basking in each other’s presence, before they were broken apart by Alsoomse’s voice. 

“Alright, lovebirds…” she huffed, fond exasperation in her voice, “I just have some matters to discuss, and then I will leave. First--” she pointed at Kocoum, “You may not take him for at least a moon, if not more. He needs time to heal. If I find out you took him before then, I will not hesitate to rip your throat out. And second--” she pointed at Thomas, “You are to be resting for the next seven suns. Do not leave this hut, or I will drag you back in myself.” 

Thomas laughed softly and agreed, compared with Kocoum’s solemn oath he would not so much as touch Thomas until he was fully healed. 

“Well then,” Alsoomse said briskly, watching as Nadie and Kanti replaced the soiled furs with new ones that they had brought, “I will leave you now.” She gave them a smile, clearly proud of what they had done. “Congratulations on your child.” 

Thomas and Kocoum nodded, watching as the three healers packed up their supplies and left their hut. As soon as they had gone, Kocoum was sliding into the furs beside his husband, taking him and their child in his arms. 

“Oi,” Thomas teased, “Are you going to break the rules right now? And with our child as witness?” 

Kocoum huffed, flicking Thomas in the side of head, receiving a gurgled laugh from their son. “No. I was only thinking of what we should name our child.” 

Thomas’s breath caught in his throat. Not once, in the nine moons had he been pregnant, had he ever thought about names. “What were you thinking?” he asked carefully, rocking their son slowly. 

Kocoum paused. “I was thinking we should call him Aranck. It means ‘stars’,” he said after a moment, “But if you dislike the name, we will call him something else. It was you, after all, who carried him and gave him life. You should make the final decision.” 

Thomas found himself grinning, and he looked down at his son. His eyes sparkled in the dim lighting of their cabin. Yes, Aranck would do just fine. 

“Aranck it is,” he said, love filling his voice as he pressed a soft kiss to his child’s forehead, “Hello, Aranck. I love you so much. Your father loves you so much.” 

Aranck burbled. 

Thomas laughed again, wondering if he could die of happiness. 

“There is one more matter, though,” Kocoum said carefully, and Thomas glanced over at him to see his lover looking down at his hands, “I...I know we have never discussed your family in your homeland. But I know you must miss them. I do not believe it is fair for our child, borne of two worlds, to be given a name representative of only one.” He looked down at Thomas, eyes blazing, “Therefore, if you wish, I would like our child to have a name from your homeland as well.” 

Thomas merely stared at Kocoum, feeling his heart seize. Kocoum...he was truly the best, most considerate man Thomas could’ve ever stumbled upon. To give their child an English name in addition to a tribal one...it showed him that Kocoum truly cared about his happiness and about acknowledging that their child was a product of two cultures. Even more tears began to drip down his face, and he quickly wiped them away. 

Kocoum looked panicked, and quickly tried to soothe his lover. “No, Thomas...please don’t cry,” he said hurriedly, “I am sorry if I made you upset, we do not have to give Aranck another name…” 

“No!” Thomas said suddenly, hating how his voice quavered, “No...thank you, Kocoum. I would like to give him a second name, one from England. I just...I love you.” 

The warrior calmed, the agitated look disappearing from his gaze. “What name would you like to give him?” 

Thomas didn’t have to think. He already knew. 

“Jacob…” he said softly, “Jacob. After my younger brother.” 

Kocoum nodded, leaning over to press a kiss to Thomas’s temple. “It is wonderful. Our son, Aranck Jacob.” 

“Aranck Jacob…” Thomas echoed, shifting more into Kocoum’s arms. He smiled down at his son, whom he loved more than anything. He leaned down, giving him a kiss between the eyes.

“Welcome home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!! please leave a comment about what you thought about this chapter, or the fic as a whole. 
> 
> also, if you comment an idea for a continuation for this series, i just might write it...or just any fic ideas for thomas and kocoum in general...never underestimate the power of a comment...
> 
> until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> hey again! please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter, and if there's anything you'd like to see regarding thomas' ~mysterious affliction~. i know there was a lot of exposition and not enough dialogue this chapter, but the next chapter will definitely have more dialogue and interactions between the characters!! this chapter was more of an establishment chapter if you know what i mean. this fic will probably end up being 3 chapters or less, but i just want to let you know that comments inspire me to work faster, so do with that what you will. 
> 
> hope to see y'all during the next chapter!


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